with their small feet. But the children seemed happy�they swung their legs and chattered to each other in
French, their clotted vowels mixing on clumsy tongues. Amoud watched as the one with the baseball cap
leapt to another branch, throwing his arms around the trunk as he landed. The boy�s tiny eyes were squeezed
shut. The other children clapped.
Amoud felt the world shift as he stretched up from the blanket into a faceful of sun. He stared down at
supposed-girlfriend Shara in her blissful sleep and felt like he was seeing her from behind the brim of a
baseball cap, sixteen feet above the ground. He nudged her and she woke up happy.
�
� she asked. It wasn�t really important what she asked. Amoud wasn�t really listening.
�I feel like somebody�s cast a spell on me.� he said, while chopping onions for dinner. Shara wasn�t
really listening either. He put his thumb on the dip below her soft mouth and angled her face towards him.
�Do you remember, in cartoons, when a character would have a little cloud following him around?� She
started to laugh. �No, stop laughing,� he told her. �That little guy is me!�
�Finish chopping the onions, love,� she said. He did.
On the television that night, the news anchor was talking about the children in the trees. A pretty reporter
with big teeth hoisted a microphone up to the branches, but they didn�t say anything. They tossed the
microphone from one to the other, laughing. The news team turned the microphone off because the thumps
of static as it landed in their hands was oppressive. Eventually the kids got bored and put the microphone
down. When it fell, it broke a car windshield and set the alarm off.
The next day, everyone was talking about the footage. That�s what they called it�footage. Turns out the
local news had been the only one to get any video of the kids. Channel Seven even showed up, but the kids
just scrambled into the upper reaches of the tree to hide. Robert, Amoud�s neighbor, told him that the tree
was the oldest one in Philly.
�That�s why they picked it,� he said, glasses sliding down his pink face. He shoved them up. �They�re
trying to protect it.�
Amoud thought about this, got his mail and walked upstairs. He kissed Shara on the forehead and poured
another cup of coffee.
�Who do you think they belong to?� she asked. A worry furrow was digging between her thin eyebrows.
�Kids come from mothers.�
�I don�t know,� Amoud admitted. He raked a hand towards the back of his head and scratched it.
�I don�t understand why they don�t just get the fire department to get them down,� she said angrily.
�I think I remember someone saying that they couldn�t get the truck in between the trees.�
�Don�t be ridiculous.� She punched on the television. They watched the commercials for a couple
seconds and she added, quieter, �All you need is a ladder.�